Just ask for the ice cream [The follow-up]

"These things-the beauty, the memory of our own past- are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself, they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers.  For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited."

-CS Lewis in The Weight of Glory

***

Recently, I wrote a post about asking for what you truly want. What started as a simple conversation quickly turned into something much bigger, and before I knew it, I was receiving a lot of feedback on the topic.  For whatever reason, the post climbed in readership, where it sits second only to a post about  this website.

[Disclaimer: if you know nothing about Maddie the coonhound, or 

Theron Humphrey's current project, 

stop reading this and start reading that. It's much more interesting, I promise.]

***

I never thought the topic was particularly profound- in fact, I felt mildly guilty that people were sharing it under my name.  The concept was not original to my mind- I simply decided to write it down. But I think I get it. I think we all like the idea that we might get what we want. We want to believe that our desires matter, and sometimes good things just happen. Our human nature is programmed to receive more naturally than to give, yet we spend much of our lives fighting grace and good things that come because we think we should.  I think it's a beautifully intricate concept to learn how to accept gifts, and it was refreshing to think that sometimes, it okay just to ask for what we really want, and even more beautiful to experience hopeful anticipation.  

But here's the thing: I didn't get what I wanted.  It's weird to want something so badly & not get it. Sometimes we can want something for an extraordinary amount of time, to the point where we are consumed by the desire for it. Other times, we simply wake up one day & realize that we just don't want it any more. The latter is a bizarre experience, because in the days that followed, I found myself genuinely contemplating whether or not I actually had ever wanted it in the first place. Desires of the heart are complicated like that.  The past few weeks, I've been thinking about what I want. Here's what I've concluded: 

Even when I get what I want, it just doesn't fulfill me. I want what's next & I will always want what's next. My desires are cheapened when they are always granted.  My prayer is that God would not necessary grant for me what I ask from him. Instead, I pray he awakens & transforms my desires by giving me himself- my deepest, yet unrecognized desire. I pray that this transformation allows me to turn from the wells that I believe give me life & reveal to me a fountain which fulfills me beyond what I am aware I want or need.  Breathing freedom from want-for the first time, or for the hundredth time- is a beautiful thing. 

Fear.

I've always liked to think I was a risk taker. I've always liked to think I was independent, brave, & adventure-seeking. But the truth is, I am not- at least by nature. For as long as I can remember, I have filled my life with interests & activities that would suggest I am this way. I enjoy the outdoors, I love travelling, & I have been known to pursue lofty goals which might ultimately lead to failure. Yet, as much as I'd like to believe I am a "go with the flow & let's see what happens" kind of girl, I am just about as spontaneous as the sunrise; I am both predictable & calculated in almost every decision I ever make. I really have come to terms with this part of my personality, & when given the chance, I attempt to challenge myself through appreciating & practicing flexibility.

Despite my desire to trust a little more, & worry a little less, I am seemingly
paralyzed at times by the unknown. Whether it look like anxiety, complacency, or isolation, I have frequently allowed fear to take an authoritative role in my life. 

The past few days have made me acutely aware of how fear influences my daily

decision-making & ultimately leads to diminished joy in almost everything I do.

As I sat down this week to bring my fears to light, I realized that 

they outnumbered the goals I had in my mind. This is a problem.

I've found that when fear dictates your thought process, simple choices become agonizing, & 

complicated ones become downright unapproachable. 

 That's what fear does, it magnifies the little things until suddenly

everything is a big deal.  But the truth is, 

It's usually not that serious. 

So today, I'm learning to confront my fears.  If I believe that fear is a choice, then

renouncing it is also a choice. 

I dare you to confront a fear today. Here's to being brave. 

***

Learning to wait.

It's funny that I've been having such a hard time feeling inspired lately. 

For the first time in a while, I got into bed early, hoping to get a full night 

of sleep, but before I knew it 

1. I had this song stuck in my head & 

2. I suddenly felt inspired. 

[Not sure if there is causation there, but it happened.]

One of the things I've been thinking about for a while now is what it looks like to wait. 

I've written about it recently, but I've noticed my impatience more & more as I've watched 

my heart change over the past year. It seems I'm always waiting for something. 

A year ago, I was waiting to move- in so many aspects of my life:

 physically, emotionally, & spiritually. 

I experienced all of those things in the course of a year. It was all so hard, but so good. 

But now, as I've settled  in many senses of the word, I find myself again waiting.
Or at least it feels like waiting.

I'm waiting for a handful of things, from where I'll be placed next May
to where relationships are going that seem to be moving at a snail's pace.
But the truth is, I'm not so much waiting as I am worrying.
Amidst it all, I feel like I'm waiting for myself to be patient & to just be still.
It seems like such a strange way to put it- that I'm waiting for myself to be patient,
but that's what it seems I'm doing lately.  

Sometimes I feel like I don't even give my prayers & desires a chance to be answered.
I never get to experience the true feeling of waiting, because I don't sit still long enough
to expect answers to come. I either talk myself out of it, or work full-force toward accomplishing
things myself. Neither of these things tend to end well for me.
Instead of patient expectance, I'm left with the disappointment of my own failed
manipulation, or the frustration that I never got to see the answer
because I simply didn't give it the time to get there.

Today, I'm learning to wait. I'm learning to be patient. I'm learning that the things that
are worth it take time, & the process of accepting things as they come is
often more rewarding than the results themselves.

The rebirth of a vision

Back in August, I wrote this. To date, that entry was one of the hardest I've ever written.

Not only was the actual writing part hard for me, but realizing that something

I knew God had given me was left to die just plain hurt.  Writing that post was humbling at best, & even as I allowed the words to be typed by my fingers, I refused to fully believe that what I was writing was true. Looking back now, I think I was just too stubborn to admit that the plan I was constructing for my life might not have been the best, right one. I remember telling my friend about a vision I had regarding my future. He said, "The only way to know that a prophecy is true is if it comes to be. I know that's not what you want to hear, but you'll make yourself crazy unless you fully surrender it & be patient."I didn't realize it then, but that was the beginning of a long, tiresome battle of learning to wait. I'm fairly certain it's a lesson I'll be learning most of my life. 

Despite the wisdom I was receiving at the time, I wrote that blog post, but simultaneously kept my heart hardened. It did feel good to admit, in some sense, that I had been wrong, kind of how it ultimately feels good to apologize & tell someone that you're sorry. It's a painful kind of good, the relief you feel once you recognize that you aren't in control. However, I think I held onto hope that ultimately my plan, my vision, my idea of my future would prevail. 

That blog post inspired conversation with a few different people. 

I received emails, texts, and a couple messages about how I was not alone in the process 

of realizing that sometimes, visions just die. I was told stories of heartbreak & triumph, 

the birth of passions, & the dissolving of dreams. Suddenly, my

struggle to surrender to a bigger plan didn't leave me feeling so alone. Again, this was

the beginning of a much bigger lesson I'd take with me for the next season of life. 

For the first time, I realized that people actually read this thing. 

That was both exciting & terrifying to know.

Sometime between August and now, I finally surrendered that vision. 

I realized that there is a season for everything in life & a time for all things. 

But as I sat at a coffee shop Thursday morning, I realized that the entirety of the plan

I had for myself wasn't untrue at all. Sure, the details of where I thought I'd be on this day

are much different than I envisioned them when I first gained that glimpse of my future. 

But Thursday, I saw the redemption of the heart of that vision: that my future was promising

& exciting & so different from what I originally thought, but so equally beautiful.

 There was life to be found in that old vision, albeit the details had changed.
It was a beautiful realization to see all of that come full circle. 

It was like I was realizing, for the first time that death is never permanent. 

It always give birth to new life. Life always wins. 

Restless

rest·less--

        Marked by a lack of quiet, repose, or rest.

----

I'll blame the rain that has been falling incessantly on Colorado since I arrived last night. I can count on one hand the memories I have of it ever being this rainy here. Something about the rain almost always leaves me contemplative & downright lost in thought at times. 

Or maybe I'll blame the book I'm reading [Into the Wild]. Something about a good, tragic story
 always leaves me reflective & again, lost in thought sometimes. It seems

these days all I've done is read books that leave me emotionally exhausted.

[I'm ready to move on to this & this.]

But if I'm honest, I know that neither of these things can be held accountable for the constant state of my restless soul. It is no new occurrence that I've found my heart wandering, & there are no recent happenings to blame for the fidgety feelings I've been having lately. I've always been a little bit fickle & unsettled, & frankly, I haven't a clue what to do with myself when given the chance to rest.

I've counted three times this week that different people have told me to rest. Those three times sit atop countless other times throughout my life when I've been told the same thing. It seems I
haven't yet mastered the dimmer switch for my productivity. I'm either on & burning
the candle at both ends or off & virtually crippled by indecision & lack of direction.
I've spent entirely too much time wishing for what's next & then standing on the
other side attempting to revel in the past that I missed out on in my efforts to move forward.

It's not surprising to me that, when I really think about it, all of this comes back to
the fact that I am impatient. I love & also hate that this lesson has been following me
for over a year now. But that's how lessons are. They just keep following you until you get it.

So here's to resting this week.
 Here's to old friends, a family that loves me, & the town I called home for 18 years.
Here's to enjoying the adventures without the fear of missing out elsewhere.
Here's to patience & trust that I'm where I'm supposed to be. 

Reflections on a Year of Growth

“Rejoice, my heart. You’ve been made whole by a love that will not let you go.”

        Just hours before I found myself sobbing in his passenger seat, I had clicked “publish” to my most recent blog post titled,  “1095 days.” The irony in the documentation of our third anniversary on the day he broke up with me stole the breath from my lungs, but seemed eerily conclusive at the same time. For a moment, I almost appreciated how on-schedule things had come full circle. In that moment, I saw our entire relationship-- from the moment he bravely grabbed my hand, 1095 days before, to this conversation in his passenger seat-- flash before me. Despite knowing in my deepest heart that our expiration date had arrived, I remember thinking, “If he were to propose in this very moment, my answer would be ‘yes’.” I knew nothing about how much could change in a year.

            The following days were a blur of crying-induced migraines followed by emotional numbness. I didn’t know it then, but the numbness would stay with me for a while. For the first time in my life, I was afraid to be alone & I found every excuse to be in a room full of strangers as often as possible. I avoided anyone who knew me, [who knew us] because tangled within my broken heart lived the fear that verbalizing our break-up validated its reality. Denial seeped into my bones,  & immediately, I began preparing for restoration. For 3 weeks, I waited for his call. I waited for his realization that letting me go was the biggest mistake he’d ever made, & I waited for God to just answer what I asked of him: Why wouldn’t he just fix things? I knew nothing about how much could change in a year.

        I spent the next 8 months floundering in and out of frustration with my heart’s inability to heal, & if I’m really honest, still waiting for that call.  I dreamt of him every night for weeks at a time, and I feared each morning that followed because it brought the perpetual discovery that brokenness was my reality. Each day felt like the rebirth of sadness, devoid of healing. My heart ached like it never had before. I knew nothing about how much could change in a year.

-----

Here I am, a year later. For the first time in 4 years, I watched April 8^th pass without any significant value besides the fact that the weather here in Nashville was the most beautiful it’s been in quite some time. The year that has passed since I sat in his passenger seat for the last time has been so different than I ever imagined. I dreaded this day for so long. While there were countless moments of peace and understanding, there were also moments when I genuinely believed I wouldn't know happiness again. But as each day passed, I slowly rebuilt my life without him, finding sincere joy in the process. I discovered the miraculous beauty of being honest with myself & others, and I began to taste the sweetness of redemption in a way I've never known before. I will forever remember this year as a time when I learned true surrender, deep healing, & the freedom of a foundational trust in the direction of my life by a loving, gentle God. I felt what I never thought I'd feel: This chapter is over, & it's good.

On this day,  I have more to be thankful for than I ever thought possible. As I reflect on the past year, I can truthfully say that I am falling in love with the day-to-day journey I am on.

 I know much about what can change in a year.

-Laura

Love is a puzzle that can't be solved

If it's possible to be homesick for a place you are currently standing in, that's what I am. 

Saturday,  as I ran down my favorite trail in Fort Collins, 

I felt my heart aching. The weird thing was, it was aching to be exactly where I was. 

It was as if the "I-belong-here" joy that flooded into my heart was just too

overwhelming, & the only response my heart could muster up was to hurt. It hurt for the hundreds

of memories I have made in that place, it hurt from the sheer amount of joy I was

experiencing from being there, & it hurt from knowing that that particular

stage in my life is over. As strange as it was that I felt homesick for the land I 

was standing on, it was also strange that this hurt wasn't a bad thing. 

In that moment, I realized that the changing of the seasons

--whether it be the temporal seasons, or the metaphorical ones--

is good. 

I realized that choosing to be present where I am is not

only necessary for the personal growth, but it is also incredibly rewarding. 

Simultaneously, as I missed that place, I felt excited for where I am, & where I'm going.

I felt excited for Nashville. 

I felt excited for new relationships there.

I felt excited for spring. 

Realizing that the love of where I am does not depreciate my love for where 

I've been is a fairly profound realization for me. The two are not dependent on

each other; there is enough love in my heart for both. 

What I've Learned [Parts 5 & 6]

I've been avoiding finishing this mini series for a while now. 

I'm just kind of sick of the process of reflecting. 

I've gotten to a place that I'm fairly familiar with- a place where I am just

tired of thinking about things. Oh, how I'd love to just not think for a while. 

& that's what I've attempted to do. But I've realized that there's a reason why

I started this, & it's about time I finished. I'm coming to a compromise & 

combining the last 2 topics into one post: 

Nothing is wasted. 

It is easy to keep yourself from healing. 

[If you've missed anything, catch up:]

overview, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

The first of these two things is rather straight forward. As I've experienced

a semester or growth, pain, opportunity, & change, I've come to realize

that, piece-by-piece, my story is fitting together. I'm thankful that I have 

an interest in documenting my life through journaling & this blog, because its

been so easy in the monotony of each day to think that the details are insignificant. 

But they're not, & of this I am convinced. I'm stoked to be able to look back on this

all one day & have the fog lifted entirely from my understanding of why things happen

the way they do, but until then, this is a promise I'll gladly hold on to. 

It's the last topic that I avoided the most. [that's why I put it last.]

For months I didn't want to believe that I might be hindering my own healing

process, & for months, I avoided confronting the realization that unless I gave

up control to allow God to heal my heart, I never would truly heal. 

I knew in my heart the process of healing would be a painful one, but I 

desperately wanted the control of how quickly I would allow it to happen. & if I'm 

really honest, I think part of me didn't actually want my heart to be healed. 

Accepting brokenness & healing meant admitting that I might have been wrong

in the way I had directed my life thus far, & I wasn't ready to admit that.

It's kind of amazing the destruction we can inflict on ourselves. 

But it's even more amazing how quickly peace can overwhelm the most

broken of circumstances once you let it. 

What I've learned [Part 4]

This is the 4th installment of a mini series.
If you've missed anything, find it here, here, or here.

Brokenness yields opportunity for new things. 


When I moved to Nashville in August, shortly after the hardest season I'd experienced in my life had begun, I knew that few things would  seem familiar in this next chapter I was about to start. 

I was moving to a brand new place 1,000 miles from home, 
&  I knew this move would bring a range of things to adjust to [ traffic, weather changes, 
southern drawls, completely independent living].

 I honestly felt like the person who was moving to Nashville was not the same  
person who had graduated the year before & was about to watch 
all of the intricate dreams she had carefully created for her future unfold. 
I've struggled with living in the now my whole life. If I'm honest, even as I 
write this, I can't help but think of what's next- finishing classes, moving on to my residency
& then moving on from there. 


I've realized that once I saw all of my visualized plans of living in Nashville dissolve, I was left
with a blank slate of opportunity. Nothing I decided to do was hinging on another person,
an idea of my future, or a plan that was already made & waiting to be carried out.
I was completely free [& at times forced] to explore, create, & discover many of the things
I had neglected to think about because I was so far projected into the future I had created.
My time in Nashville so far has been an almost daily experience of recognizing newness;
there are so many opportunities here, so many relationships to be made, and so many 
risks to be taken that I might have missed out on had my 
original plans panned out the way I wanted them to.



 & while I am sometimes still painfully aware 
of the plans I once had & their current state of non-existence, I am finally able to
realize that letting go of them [a daily process] has opened up the opportunity for
new things. Not better or worse, just new. I am not willing to say that none of
these plans will ever come to fruition, but the time just isn't now, & that's okay.

This all reminds me of the song that inspired the namesake of this blog a few years ago:

What I've learned [Part 3]

I've had a hard time blogging lately because I've been so busy &

exhausted with school. But I wanted to finish what I started, which is

reflecting on the things I've learned from this season of life. This season

I had my heart broken, lived through a devastating forest fire, 

 moved accross the country, & followed my dream of becoming an 

occupational therapist by starting school in Nashville, TN. 

Being broken connects one to another. 

This lesson is one of the most apparent & probably

the one that I've experienced as the most fruitful since I've

lived in Nashville. One of the biggest lies you can believe when 

you're hurting is that you're unique-there's not a chance anyone understand

what you're going through. But what I've learned in this season of life is not

only that brokenness is common to all, but also that deep relational

development is born from vulnerability & brokenness. Since I've been in 

Nashville, I've made friends that I would never have bonded with had we  

not shared the common experience of deep hurt & brokeness. I'm experiencing

a closeness with people that has taken so much longer to develop in the past

& it feels great. I have grown in my own ability to see the beauty in new 

beginnings, & I have seen my growth directly affect those who are 

hurting as well. Brokenness creates a fertile ground for restoration not

only in our own hearts, but the hearts of others. I love it. 

[If you missed part 2, read it here.]

   

What I've Learned [Part 2]

There is a need for emotional vulnerability. 

I've spent a good portion of my life out of touch with my own emotions.

It's not that I don't feel things.  But when it comes to identifying
just what it is I am feeling, I often struggle to recognize or categorize my emotions.
I remember watching The Notebook in theaters & feeling highly
uncomfortable while everyone cried around me. It was then that I first
realized that I'm not very emotional.
. 

Call it being unsentimental.
Call it being  hard-hearted. 
Call it having a heart that is 3 sizes too small.  

What I've learned in this season of life is that there is an absolute need
for emotional vulnerability. Could the root of my inability to exhibit genuine emotion
stem not from an inability to do so, but rather a fear of transparency?
Probably not in the case of watching The Notebook, but most definitely
in my emotional relatedness and honestly with myself & others.
In my worst moments, I want to attribute this to being an internal processor,
but when I'm honest with myself, I can identify the root of this as pride.
More specifically, it is a control issue of choosing just how vulnerable,
just how broken I wanted others to view me as. 

But here's what I'm learning: 
Brokenness is the human condition. 

We all share a common thread of brokenness, 
whether it be a failure in achievement, relationships or status. 
We all hurt, we all feel, & we all experience deep movement within us
that is not only natural, but necessary for growth. Confronting the state
of my own heart & allowing myself to be emotionally vulnerable has been
one of the best things I'm learning to do. I am overflowing with good
things that I have gained through conversations, questions asked, &
advice received because I've allowed myself to be a little bit vulnerable. 
Now that I've experienced these things, I can't imagine sacrificing them
for the sake of not feeling a little bit of hurt.

[This is the 2nd part of a mini series. You can find the topic here,
& part 1 here.]

I am a tree in a story about a forest.

Sometimes I think I'm a tree in a story

about a tree. 

[I'm not.]

"...& he said to me that I am a tree

 in a story about a forest, 

& it is arrogant of me to believe any differently. 

He told me that 

the story of the forest 

is better than the story of the tree. "

-Donald Miller 

A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.